


Lost Heroes: Legion

by Silence_Will_Fall201



Series: World Undead [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, BAMF Stiles, F/M, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall has issues, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_Will_Fall201/pseuds/Silence_Will_Fall201
Summary: Ida's Legion threatening the walls calls Beacon Hills into action. With an army looming over them, the residents must decide to fight and die trying, or to live in captivity the rest of their lives. It's no easy choice, but for some there's no question. Stiles wants to fight the Legion even though he knows they cannot win, but Scott would rather ensure the lives of Beacon Hill's residents are secure instead of fighting once more.-READ PRIOR STORIES IN SERIES
Relationships: Cora Hale & Lydia Martin, Cora Hale & Malia Tate, Cora Hale & Original Male Character(s), Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale/Original Male Character(s), Derek Hale & Original Female Character(s), Derek Hale & Scott McCall, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Original Female Character(s), Lydia Martin & Malia Tate, Lydia Martin & Scott McCall, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Scott McCall, Peter Hale & Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Malia Tate, Scott McCall & Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Malia Tate, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Original Female Character(s), Stiles Stilinski & Original Male Character(s), etc. - Relationship
Series: World Undead [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458919
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, so this is my last fic in this series and probably my last fic on here in general - So sorry to those who were counting on me to update other fics that just haven't...
> 
> life has gotten pretty hectic for me, and I just have no time for things like fandoms and fanfics and all of the stuff that comes with it so this will be the last.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy. Since this is basically the second half of what would have been the whole one-shot I posted a few months or so back, this fic will be A LOT shorter. I'm giving myself 10 chapters to finish this one.
> 
> Expect sporadic updates - I have no schedule and will update when I have the time.
> 
> Thanks everyone, and enjoy.

The wind whistled as the trees swayed. Noises of birds and other animals littered the soundscape that was otherwise silent, and the groaning and shuffling of the undead tainted a picturesque view of what once was Beacon Hills. A zombie walked out into the open, dragging a partially severed leg behind it as it walked out into the middle of the dirt road the led out of Beacon Hills. A shadow moved silently behind the zombie and almost in an instant, a knife was driven through the back of its head, poking out in between its eyes. The shadowy figure of a man moved into the moonlight, revealing greying black hair that had been choppily cut and dark skin marred by scars and blemishes. A single wound ran over one of his eyes, cutting through a now milky eye that seemed to not open quite as well as the other. The man looked at the zombie he had killed, an almost sad expression plaguing his face as he pulled off the zombie’s cloak made out of a wolf hide.

A flashlight through the trees caught the man’s attention and he ran across the road into the opposite tree line. He ran as silently as he could, his right hand gripping his knife while his left sat cradled in the crook of his right. As he ran he began to limp until he had fallen, tripping over a tree root. He fell with a thud and a gasp, groaning in pain as his injuries were aggravated. There was yelling from the direction the man came and the flashlight waved over the man’s injured and weak body on the forest floor.

“Well…thought I’d seen you run off,” a tall, blonde man with shaggy hair and an unkempt beard walked up to the man on the ground, a revolver aimed at his head, “thought you could get away, leave your pitiful pretend wolves to the slaughter while you left,” the man laughed and crouched over the other man.

“You have no hold on me,” the man on the ground gasped out, “my wolves were my family,”

“You still left them,” the blonde man laughed, “funny how things go, isn’t it?” He turned back to where he came, seemingly searching for something in the darkness, “you out here, Ramirez?” He yelled.

“Sorry, Ramirez isn’t around,” another voice answered the man and a younger man stepped out into the moonlight, his dark hair and beard also shaggy and unkempt, and his face marked by too many scars.

“Ah…and here we have the prodigal son. I heard all about your little trip across the country a few years ago. You’ve been inside the walls ever since,” the blonde man stood and face the newcomer with a grin, “you lost your mojo, kid. The outside isn’t how it was when you were out here,” the newcomer gave the man an equally disturbing grin and laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh, you’ve heard about me but you _definitely_ don’t know me,” he pulled a gun from his waistband and looked to the man on the ground, “you okay, Malakai?” He asked in passing.

“Yes,” Malakai breathed a sigh of relief, “it is good to see you, Stiles,” Stiles gave him a smile and then turned to the blonde man which frowned at the familiarity between Stiles and Malakai.

“You with Ida?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow at the man.

“I am with _The Legion_!” The man spat at Stiles who only rolled his eyes.

“Well, _I’m_ with Beacon Hills, _and_ I’m going to send a message,” Stiles levelled his gun with the man’s head in an instant, and shot. The man crumpled to the ground and blood began to seep out of the wound, “come on,” Stiles helped Malakai up, “nasty cut there,” he gestured vaguely to the wound over Malakai’s eye.

“It will heal in time,” Malakai said.

“Stay here, I’m going to leave this guy’s body where Ida will find it…she needs to know that we’re a threat,” Stiles said without explaining further. Malakai furrowed his brows in confusion but said nothing as he watched Stiles pull the man’s body over one shoulder and haul him out of the forest and likely to dump him on the street. When Stiles came back, Malakai gave him a questioning look as the younger man had even more blood on him than before, “sent a message,” was all Stiles told him.

“I will be getting an explanation, yes?” Malakai asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded as he let Malakai put one arm over his shoulders to help him walk.

Stiles helped Malakai out of the forest and into the open, where the gates to Beacon Hills opened quickly. Damien was inside, ushering Stiles and Malakai in before they could be seen by any scouts Ida may have set up in the area. Once inside the walls, Stiles helped Malakai to the medical bay and he sat on a free bed while their doctor, Victoria Balfour, was stitching the wound over his eye. Stiles watched with a careful eye and an unreadable expression as Malakai hissed with each thread. The man looked so weak and broken that there was almost nothing of the strong leader Stiles had befriended.

“What happened?” Stiles eventually asked.

“Our camp was ambushed,” Malakai sighed, “my people were slaughtered,”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles supplied with a frown, “how did you…” Stiles trailed off.

“Ken, pushed me out of the camp and shielded me when the bullets began flying,” Malakai told him, “he saved my life but I watched him get gunned down in front of me,” Stiles sighed sadly.

“the people that did it…they were part of this group I told you about. They call themselves the Legion,” Stiles explained, “it’s leader is a woman called Idris Hannover, or Ida as she likes to call herself. She’s a hunter who has employed tactics to make supernaturals her pets basically,” Malakai frowned at the words.

“And we are on their bad side?” He asked and Stiles nodded.

“Yeah,”

The door to the medical bay flung open and Scott stalked inside with Derek on his heels. Scott gestured for Victoria to leave, and she did so after finishing the sutures. Stiles let out a sigh and stood as Scott and Derek stopped in front of them, both with thunderous faces. Stiles left the walls without Scott’s permission. He’d wanted to leave to go find Malakai but Scott stopped him after the council had met once again without Stiles present.

“You left,” Scott said with furrowed brows, “you left without consulting me or your father,”

“Actually I _did_ consult you guys,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “but you shut me down _after_ you already said I could go. If I didn’t, Malakai would be dead,” Stiles said.

“It wasn’t your call,” Derek said from behind Scott, “we would have gone out in the morning,”

“I found him with a gun to his head, lucky I was there,” Stiles stood to get to both Scott and Derek’s level. Scott frowned and looked to Malakai.

“He saved you?” He asked and Malakai nodded.

“Yes, I am very grateful,” Malakai sent a nod and a small smile to Stiles, “I would not have lasted, I’m afraid,”

“That’s good,” Derek gave a nod to Malakai, “we need to brief you on what’s happened,”

“Certainly, once Victoria finishes with me,” Malakai said.

“Of course,” Scott replied quickly, “you can come back in Vicki!” He yelled out and moments later Victoria entered the room and began working on Malakai’s wounds once again.

“You’ll be okay here?” Stiles asked Malakai, “i have to go…clean up,” he muttered.

“I’ll be okay,” Malakai smiled.

“Meet in the council room when you’re ready,” Scott said.

Stiles left the medical bay and Scott ran after him, Derek staying behind to speak briefly with Malakai. Stiles headed straight to his house with Lydia, not bothering to care about the looks people were giving him regarding the blood stains. Stiles let out a frustrated sigh when Scott ran up to him. The two were friends, always will be, but neither of them could deny that the end of the world drove a wedge in their friendship, however small.

“What?” Stiles stopped and turned quickly on his heel to face Scott.

“Why is there so much blood?” Scott asked and Stiles’ eyes went cold.

“I had to send Ida a message,” he said and Scott’s eyes went wide.

“You _what?_ You do realise that doing something like that could get all of us killed, right?” Scott asked incredulously.

“She needed to know that we are a threat, that we will fight back,” Stiles gritted his teeth and leaned in closer to Scott, threateningly.

“But we’re _not_ fighting back, _you_ are,” Scott frowned, “I want to keep the peace, and everyone here just wants to not _die_ , you seem hell bent on putting us into every situation where we could die!” Scott exclaimed, “it’s like you don’t care,”

“I’m doing this _because_ I care, Scott,” Stiles sighed. His eyes drifted behind Scott to the group of people crowding around them, “seems like we’ve got an audience. I’m going to take a shower,” Stiles rolled his eyes and turned away from Scott and the crowd, heading back towards his house where Lydia would be waiting for news of Malakai’s wellbeing.

* * *

“Ma’am,” came a call from the entrance to Ida’s room. She turned, facing the one who had spoken, a young man with dirt covering his face and a gash above one eye.

“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow, “you’re filthy, get cleaned up Oliver,” she suggested. Oliver shook his head and it was then that Ida saw the distressed look on his face.

“What happened? Did you and your team take out the people playing wolf?” She asked.

“We tried, ma’am, but their leader got away,” Oliver gulped, “but something else happened,” he averted his eyes and shook his head, “I think you should come see,”

Ida sighed but did as Oliver suggested. She followed the young man out into the main hall of the building they were staying at. She had brought only a portion of her army to stay with her. They were in the town just outside Beacon Hills, it was smaller and more compact, but she needed to keep watch. Her army was spread across the area, she had eyes and ears everywhere watching Beacon Hills. She had to know everything. The rest of her army were back in their home across the state, she couldn’t have brought everyone.

“He ran after the leader, I didn’t see him until it was too late,” Oliver said quickly as they walked. Ida saw a crowd of people gathered around a particular spot in the hall and as she got closer she could see the form of a body on a table. Ida said nothing as she moved closer, her eyes fixated on the face of the corpse, “i’m so sorry, ma’am,” Oliver muttered from behind her. Ida’s eyes focussed on the corpse and she went rigid, seemingly frozen in place.

“What happened to him?” Ida’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as she spoke. The corpse was mangled, the dead man’s chest carved with the words ‘housewarming gift’ in crude lettering. The face had a bullet hole right between the eyes and a distant expression.

“One of Beacon Hills’ people must have got him and saved the wolf leader,” Oliver said, “I found him in the middle of the road,” Ida stared at the body of the young man as murmurs floated throughout the crowd watching the exchange.

“I want you to find who killed my son, and I want you to bring them _straight_ to me!” She said with an edge to her words, showing the crowd that she was serious and she was _angry,_ “you will slaughter every last one of Beacon Hills’ people if you must, just bring me the one who killed my John!”

“Yes ma’am,” Oliver stuttered, “I will gather a group-“

“No,” Ida cut him off, “you will go inside the walls,”

“But the wolf leader, if he saw me…” Oliver trailed off.

“Then you will kill him to protect your cover,” Ida glared at the man, “do you understand?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” Oliver gulped, “I will do as you wish,”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Property inspection?” Stiles dusted off his dirt-covered hands on his pants and walked up to the man, “let me guess, you’re going to see what’s ripe for the taking?”
> 
> “You guessed right, my man,” the man laughed almost maniacally, “What you have, is ours. Anything we don’t want, you get to keep,”
> 
> “And how are we supposed to live?” Scott asked from where another of the Legion had restrained him and pulled him aside.
> 
> “That’s the beauty of it! We decide who gets to live!” The man had a grin that sent shivers down Scott’s spine, and made Stiles clench his fists in the pure want to do something violent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out but I got stacked with uni work, then a little carried away once my holidays started. I should be giving you guys semi-consistent updates on weekends (don't expect weekly though BTW). If I miss a week, just know that life gets in the way and I'm starting to fall out of love with fanficiton (sad, right, but I'm determined to finish this story at the very least, I'm not certain there will be another instalment after this so the Lost Heroes Verse may end with Legion, but I'll update you guys on that as time goes on).
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

The gates to Beacon Hills opened with a rusty squeal and the residents parted ways to make way for the convoy which drove through. Scott stepped out from his home with Malia by his side, Allison hugging his leg and Malia holding Mitchell in her arms tightly. Stiles had been working in the farming fields when he saw the convoy. He stood from where he was crouched over a particularly unruly tomato plant and wiped the sweat off his brow. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the convoy, and looked over towards his own house where Lydia has stepped onto the porch. Her expression was one of worry. Carson held onto Aaron’s hand tightly from where she was walking her son out of the building they used for school.

The trucks the convoy arrived in were marked with a logo, a geometric wolf with an arrow through it’s head and spirals for eyes, a not-so-subtle metaphor for how the Legion treated their supernatural pets. The convoy came to a stop once all the trucks were inside the walls, an a man stepped out from the truck at the front. He was remarkably well dressed and clean for the middle of the apocalypse, it was clear he was someone important to Ida.

“What are you doing here? We had a deal with Ida!” Scott demanded, stalking right up to the man with all the grace of a predator and none of the clumsiness Stiles had come to know from the alpha.

“Hush wolfie,” the man rolled his eyes, “it’s property inspection day!” Scott flinched and frowned.

“What?” Scott asked and the man laughed.

“Keep him back,” the man gestured to one of his friends, all of whom had left their respective trucks armed with rifles and expressions of trained killers. The hunter portion of the Legion, Stiles guessed.

“Property inspection?” Stiles dusted off his dirt-covered hands on his pants and walked up to the man, “let me guess, you’re going to see what’s ripe for the taking?”

“You guessed right, my man,” the man laughed almost maniacally, “What you have, is ours. Anything we don’t want, you get to keep,”

“And how are we supposed to live?” Scott asked from where another of the Legion had restrained him and pulled him aside.

“That’s the beauty of it! _We_ decide who gets to live!” The man had a grin that sent shivers down Scott’s spine, and made Stiles clench his fists in the pure want to do something violent.

“What right do you have to do that?” Scott asked and Stiles glanced behind him to see Noah stepping out from one of the houses, his expression thunderous.

“Every right, since you guys let us stay oh so kindly,” the man shrugged. He turned around to face his men, “let’s get started boys!” The members of the Legion set to work.

Scott was released and the hunters pushed their way past the residents of Beacon Hills, taking things out of their hands and forcing their way into the homes. Stiles walked up to the man, who was simply watching everything with a smug smile on his face.

“Who are you?” Stiles asked and the man glanced over, barely regarding Stiles with more than a shrug.

“Who do you think?” He responded.

“I think you’re a valued member of Ida’s Legion, I think the hunters you’ve got here listen to you, and I think you’re a sadistic son of a bitch who gets off on tormenting people,” Stiles said quickly, crossing his arms and standing tall against the man who actually seemed slightly surprised at Stiles’ words.

“I’m Chase, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me,” Chase smiled and Stiles nearly punched him right then and there.

* * *

Oliver broke away from the group of the Legion he was stationed with outside of Beacon Hills. He wore torn and dirty clothing, his skin marked with blood and dirt making it appear like he’d been out in the elements for too long, his only company the undead. Oliver fiddled with a torn piece of his shirt nervously and took a deep breath. He pulled a heavy hiking backpack over his shoulders and gasped at the sheer weight of it. Ida had made sure he looked the part of lost traveller, that’s for sure.

He stumbled as he walked, an injured leg given to him to appear weak and helpless, something Ida seemed to think would bring the alpha of Beacon Hills to tend to his every whim and desire, susceptible to his words. Oliver wasn’t sure about Ida’s plan, but he had hope. His role, however, was not one he wished to have. He was supposed to lead a portion of the Legion to victory over Beacon Hills but Ida…Ida decided he was too weak to do so. Instead, she tasked him with finding John’s killer, something he knew he could do but he wasn’t sure how effective he would be to Ida’s standards. If the mock alpha of the group hiding outside Beacon Hills saw him, his cover would be blown and he had no doubt that he would be killed.

He didn’t want to walk right up to the gates of Beacon Hills, that would be too obvious, so he kept in touch with some of the Legion watchmen via walkie and waited, setting up shop in an abandoned warehouse not far away. He waited, and waited. For three days he was stuck in the warehouse with only the bare necessities he’d been given in his pack, and the sounds of the undead for company. On the third day, he received a transmission from the Legion.

“ _Oliver, come in,_ ” the walkie lit up, the static sound behind the transmission making it hard to decipher. Oliver picked up the walkie and hit the button to talk.

“This is Oliver, go,”

“ _Group of three heading out the west walls, travelling towards you, they’re about three miles out,_ ” the watchman responded over the walkie.

“Am I clear to engage?” Oliver asked.

“ _You’re clear_ ,” the watchman replied and the walkie went silent.

Oliver gathered up his things as quick as he possibly could, leaving any of the things he’d been given by the Legion that could give himself away in the warehouse, and he left. He left the warehouse, coming out in a small industrial village full of abandoned small sheds, factories and overgrown grass. It hadn’t been touched in a while and there seemed to be barely any undead around, which couldn’t do.

Oliver grabbed a knife from his bag and walked over to an old water tank by a small factory. He grabbed the knife by its hilt and tapped rather hard on the the water tank with the blade. Almost immediately what was left of the undead in the area snarled in recognition of the sound, their shuffling slow but getting closer. Oliver hit the tank again, and again, until a small hoard entered his vision, slowly making their way to him from the main part of the industrial village.

“Come and get me you bastards,” Oliver muttered to himself. Soon, the zombies were right on him and Oliver shoved them away, only killing two of the six that were there. He had to make it look like he’d at least put up a fight.

After a few minutes of Oliver showing the zombies away, he started to put on a show. He let out a loud yell and fell to the ground. He used his feet to kick away the zombies trying to grab at his legs, and used his arms to try to keep the others from getting to his face.

“Help!” Oliver yelled, “oh my God, please help me!”

“There’s someone over here,” a nearby voice said and Oliver let out another yell.

Three figures came into view and almost immediately the zombies were thrown off of Oliver and killed. Oliver slumped back on the ground in relief and let out a sign. One of the three, a young woman, helped Oliver up and he got a good look at them. The woman seemed far too pretty to be in the middle of the apocalypse, light red, bordering on blonde hair was tied back into a messy ponytail and her clothes were torn. Despite her obvious attractiveness - Oliver couldn’t get caught up in that - she held a fierce glint in her eyes that told Oliver that she at least thought she could kill him in a second, somehow he wasn’t sure it was just figurative. Her companions consisted of two men, although one seemed much more like a teenager. The oldest of the two men was clearly changed by the way the world ended up, with scars lining his face in different directions and a harsh gaze. The younger was wide-eyed but not naive, his shaggy brown hair that obviously hadn’t been tended to in a while making him look younger, while the gun strapped to his thigh and the pale scar across his nose told that looks were deceiving. All three were from Beacon Hills, and suddenly Oliver was questionable of the weakness of the town.

“What are you doing out here?” The oldest male said with narrowed eyes.

“Travelling,” Oliver said with a sigh, “I-I got separated from my group,” he glanced nervously between the three and their weapons, “you guys aren’t going to kill me right?” The man rolled his eyes and the woman stifled a laugh.

“What are we going to do with him?” The teenager asked, looking immediately to the man, “he could be one of them, we should interrogate him!”

“Down boy,” the man frowned at the teenager.

“Tyler, why don’t you keep an eye out for any more zombies?” The woman said pointedly to the teenager, Tyler.

“Fine,” Tyler sighed in frustration and stepped away from the group.

“The kid’s not wrong,” The man turned back to Oliver, “Who are you?”

“What are you going to do with me?” Oliver took a nervous step backwards and stumbled on his injured leg.

“We’re not going to do anything unless you give us a reason,” the woman answered, “what’s your name?” She asked with a certain kindness that softened her eyes.

“Oscar,” Oliver told them, “Oscar Jones,”

“You said you were separated from you group. Where?” The man asked.

“Uh, It was near the highway just over near the border to Oregon…I think,” Oliver rubbed the back of his head with his hand nervously, “i’m not exactly sure where we were but I heard Izzy talking about Oregon, and Vic was excited about some national park or something,” The two exchanged a glance and the man sighed.

“I’m Lydia,” The woman, Lydia said with a slight smile but uncertain eyes, “and this is Stiles,”

“That’s…an odd name,” Oliver turned to Stiles and he shrugged, “where do you guys come from?”

“I’m not sure that’s something you want to get into,” Stiles said, “our…community, is in the midst of a little problem so maybe we should go our separate ways,”

“Oh,” Oliver hadn’t counted on being turned away. From what he’d heard about the Beacon Hills people, they were nice, almost _too_ nice, taking in strays when they needed shelter.

“Or…you could come with us, we can figure something out for you and you can go on your way,” Lydia spoke up, “we likely won’t be able to let you stay, but if you need help pointing to a direction we can probably help,”

“Thank you! That would be amazing!” Oliver smiled, “it’s been days since I’ve seen my friends, I’m so glad to have run into you guys,” okay, maybe that was overacted if the look Stiles gave him was any indication.

* * *

Cora grabbed the large bale of hay and hoisted it up as high as possible to start carrying it. The elderly woman who usually tended the stables, Mrs Hall, sighed in relief and thanked Cora for her help. Cora gave her a smile and went to take the bale over to the paddock they’d turned the horses out into. She was having a relatively slow work day, her tasks around Beacon Hills were mostly related to heavy lifting, since Scott was off playing mediator with the council, Derek was simultaneously held up with the council and stuck with Talia while Rachael worked in the storeroom, Peter was just lazy and North and the rest of the supernaturals they’d seemingly adopted were off playing tower defence at the walls, leaving Cora and the rest of the Eden supernaturals to pick up the slack.

“Hey,” a voice said abruptly, just as Cora passed the side of the stables, making her jump and drop the bale, parts of it breaking off all over the ground, “ooh, sorry,” the cringe in the speaker’s voice was clear.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cora glared at Alex Coleman who had pushed off the stable wall he was leaning on to help Cora with the hay.

“I was thinking you heard me,” Alex said with a sigh.

“I was distracted,” Cora stated with a huff as she went to pick up the largest remaining part of the bale, “I’m working, what do you want?” She stared him down but frowned when he didn’t so much as flinch, rather he smiled.

“I know we’re kind of in the midst of a crisis here and all, but I was wondering if I could take your mind off of it - _both_ our minds off of it,” Alex said and Cora stopped.

“Are you asking me out? _Now_ of all times?” Cora raised her eyebrows, her expression not impressed. She got the feeling Alex realised this, as his heart rate sped up and he began stumbling over his words.

“I-I mean it doesn’t have to be, you know, a date or anything, it can just be two friends hanging out, or, I don’t know, a purposeless get together of casual proportions-“ Alex rambled and Cora rolled her eyes.

“Hey, shut up,” she said and he instantly snapped his mouth shut, “we can hang out, but if you try anything I will shove your claws so far up your ass you’ll have no need for a girlfriend,” she said blankly, the undertone of her words not one of malice, however, but a joke.

“Uh-I don’t know how to respond to thank,” Alex responded.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Cora rolled her eyes.

* * *

The gates to Beacon Hills opened and Oliver’s eyes widened. They weren’t a large community, but they were decently settled in. Farm land sprawled over the open patches of land, stables that looked to be built by hand and houses in the midst of being build all among the remnants of the town that once was. Overall, Beacon Hills looked like the perfect semblance of society, everyone was doing their part, working in the fields, teaching children, making furniture and food for people to buy and barter for, it was…nice.

“This is…amazing,” Oliver said, and it wasn’t the words of Oscar Jones, but he himself saying so. The Legion, their city, operated like a military. Everything had rules, everyone had a place and if they outlived their purpose, they were never seen again. The Legion was run by hunters in control of the supernatural, and while Oliver wasn’t supernatural himself, he wasn’t a hunter seen to be of high standing by Ida and her family either. He was the lowest of the low in hunter terms, barely able to hit a shot, barely able to lie to save his life and barely able to identify what species he was hunting. All in all, Oliver was barely okay at everything a hunter should be great at. He was sure Ida sent him to Beacon Hills to test him, or maybe kill him so she wouldn’t have to deal with him, but he was determined to try, to actually do what she asked so maybe he would finally move up a place in the theoretical hunter food chain.

“It took years to get it this way, but it was worth it,” Lydia said with a smile.

“Tyler, go check in with Henry, I’m sure he’ll be eager to make sure you’re okay,” Stiles told Tyler who shrugged and left their little group to go into the depths of Beacon Hills, “come on, Jones, you’re with me,” Stiles grabbed Oliver by the arm and split off from Lydia with a small smile. The gates closed behind them and Oliver suddenly felt a sense of dread.

He could feel eyes on him as he was taken to a building situated in what used to be the town’s centre. Somehow, it felt no different to being in the Legion. Everywhere he went in his home city, he was stared at, but supernaturals and humans alike. Those that inhabited the worker class of the city stared at him like they pitied him, but also like they hated him, while those that established their elite class stared at him as if he was some abomination of society. He supposed it had to do with his heritage, but he chose his side long ago.

They walked into the sheriff’s station situated in that building, and were faced with a number of Beacon Hills residents wearing some semblance of a uniform. Stiles bypassed all of them, who didn’t give Stiles a second glance but their eyes were glued to Oliver, and took Oliver into the holding cells in the back of the station. Stiles said nothing as he opened a cell, shoved Oliver inside and locked it behind him.

“What’s this for?” Oliver yelled after Stiles as he left the room. Moments later, a tall, rather imposing man with a kind face stepped into the room and stood at the doorway, watching over Oliver like a guard, which he supposed the man was meant to be.

Stiles walked out of the part of the station where the holding cells were and came face to face with his father. Noah looked at him with a sigh and beckoned his son into his office where he sat at his desk and pulled out an old bottle of whiskey, taking a drink before beginning to speak.

“What’s this I hear about you locking some stranger in a cell?” Noah asked.

“Lydia, Tyler and I found the guy out on the road near that Industrial village about three miles out from here,” Stiles said, “he was spinning some story about being separated from his friends, but everything seemed a little too coincidental for my taste,”

“What do you mean?” Noah asked with furrowed brows. Stiles stood firm and crossed his arms.

“I mean, we found the guy covered in mud and blood, fine, an injured leg, fine, but fighting off six zombies and losing,” Stiles said, “he said he came from around the Oregon border, near that national park north of here. He said that’s where he got separated,”

“And?” Noah asked.

“And that’s a long time to travel without encountering at least one hoard larger than six, and he’s obviously survived this long,” Stiles stated and Noah shook his head.

“Maybe he’s just good at avoidance,” Noah shrugged.

“ _Or_ maybe he set us up,” Stiles countered, “his knife was remarkably clean, despite the mud, blood and injured leg, he had barely a mark on him, and he had a fully stocked pack on his back that had little to no mud or blood on it,” Stiles explained, “to me that seems like someone tried really hard to make us think he was a lone traveller on the road for days,”

“Oh? What if there’s a reasonable explanation for all this?” Noah asked with a raised eyebrow and Stiles scoffed.

“I think we’re past having reasonable explanations. As far as I’m concerned, better safe than sorry,” Stiles reinforced his position, straightening his posture.

“So what do you want to do with him?” Noah asked.

“I want to act like I don’t think he’s a spy, and I want to simultaneously get information from him while he tries to get information from us,” Stiles stated.

“So, set him free and let him interact with people?” Noah’s eyes widened, “use him like he’ll probably use us?”

“Exactly,”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter. I'm moving the plot along a bit more to try and fit it into 10 chapters. I don't want to end up with another 71k fic like the first instalment.

Chase smirked as he watched from the roof of the library building as members of the Legion patrolled the now desolate streets of Beacon Hills. Those that weren’t workers were simply hiding, and those that weren’t hiding were watching with no way to fight what was coming. Chase couldn’t be prouder of his involvement with the Legion, Ida trusted him with Beacon Hills and he wouldn’t let her down. She wanted control, that’s what everything was about. The apocalypse gave her control over her own city, but it was never enough. They were three communities and counting, not including their own. Three communities where the Legion took control and assimilated those who didn’t fight back into their ranks. Beacon Hills would be no different.

“Sir,” one of the Legion who guarded the roof entrance called. Chase turned to face him.

“Yes?” Chase raised an eyebrow.

“The true alpha wishes to speak with you,” the guard said and Chase sighed.

“Let him up,” Chase obliged.

The guard disappeared down the stairwell and returned moments later escorting Scott onto the roof. The guard held the alpha by the arm, and stood with him as Chase looked him up and down. Scott looked tired, his clothes were dirty and he had a three day old beard scratching at his cheeks. For the supposedly moral and clean true alpha of Beacon Hills, in that moment he resembled his violent offsider more.

“Chase,” Scott greeted.

“Hey Scotty-boy,” Chase grinned, “what brings you here?”

“I’m here to negotiate,” Scott replied and Chase nodded.

“And what makes you think I’m willing to negotiate?” Chase asked with a raised eyebrow, “you gotta work with me here, Scott,”

“Your people are working mine to death,” Scott began, “you don’t let my people have breaks, or their own food they’ve grown. Your people take everything,”

“And what do you propose instead? My people need to eat, Scott,” Chase shrugged dismissively.

“So do _mine!_ ” Scott exclaimed, his eyes flaring red. The grip on his arm by the guard tightened.

“Now listen, Scott,” Chase got closer, his joking facade dropped for a more serious one, “you don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not _my_ alpha, and right now you’re not anyone’s,”

“You’re killing us,” Scott’s voice turned desperate, “we had a deal,”

“And so far your people are holding out surprisingly well,” Chase said, “but Scott, your people eat what we give them, your people work when we tell them. There is no compromise, no scenario where your people come out on top, just give up and things will be easier,” Chase’s expression turned thunderous and he saw Scott flinch. He just made a _true alpha_ flinch.

“Treat us better, and there won’t be so much defiance,” Scott countered after a moment of thought.

“It’s cute that you think you have a choice here,” Chase laughed. He looked to the guard, “take him down and make an example of him,” the guard nodded and pulled Scott away, disappearing down the stairwell.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” The other guard asked.

“Yeah, do these mutts have any popcorn?” Chase smirked.

* * *

The yell of one of the members of the Legion brought everyone out of their homes, and workers were escorted from the fields and the place of their industry. Everyone in Beacon Hills, children included, were ushered to stand at the steps of the library where one of the Legion guards had Scott on his knees. As people gathered, Chase stepped out of the library and stood next to his guard. Stiles watched from the crowd, his heart beating far too quickly at the scene in front of him. Lydia was pressed into his side, her face a mix of emotions, the main one being fear.

“The mighty alpha of Beacon Hills, brought to his knees!” Chase grinned and yelled so the whole crowd could here, the whole town. Malakai stood with the few supernatural who had taken leadership roles in Beacon Hills, Ellen - Malakai’s last remaining subordinate - North, Sasha, Derek and finally Malia - who had one hand grasping Allison’s tightly, and the other supporting Mitch’s weight on her hip.

“This isn’t good,” Lydia whispered to Stiles.

“He’s trying to destroy our confidence in Scott,” Stiles whispered back.

“Your alpha just tried to negotiate with me, it’s noble, really, _but_ his negotiation turned to a plea,” Chase shook his head and laughed, “your alpha is nothing but a weak boy who can’t handle his own status. He certainly doesn’t act like it,”

“Please, just stop,” Scott whispered in desperation.

“You have to learn that speaking against us, talking back, making negotiations and bargains come with consequences,” Chase explained. He held up a fist which Stiles spotted obscenely shiny and spiked knuckle dusters across his fingers.

“No,” Stiles breathed.

Chase took his fist and began punching, barely leaving any room for Scott to breathe or for his healing to kick in. His punches were fast and hard, blood spurting from Scott’s face with every punch. Lydia pressed into Stiles’ side more and Malia pulled Allison into her leg, away from watching her father get beaten in front of everyone. Chase continued until Scott was unconscious, his healing sluggishly knitting together the wounds. Chase pulled back with a satisfied smirk and he turned back to the crowd, all of which were in shock at the power display.

“You will do as we say, you will be grateful for what we decide to give you. Your lives are ours now,” Chase finished.

The guard left Scott’s side and he and Chase retreated back into the library. The other Legion guards that surrounded the crowd began ushering the workers back to their jobs. Malia looked as though she wanted to help Scott, but she was torn away from that decision by a guard. Stile made a move to help him, but was stopped by a guard who stood in his way.

“Move,” Stiles said, planting his feet firmly, “i’m not afraid of a little beating, and I don’t even have a healing factor to help,”

“Get back to work,” the guard warned.

“Stiles,” Lydia called and Stiles shook his head.

“Let me help my friend,” Stiles crossed his arms, “you made your point, now you can let us help him,”

“He’ll heal,” the guard stated, “get back to work,” he repeated and Stiles felt anger bubble up inside him, his fist clenching with the need to punch. Lydia rushed to his side and took his fist in her hand. Almost immediately he relaxed and grasped her hand.

“Stiles, we should go,” Lydia said. Stiles gave a look over to Scott, his wounds mostly healed bar a few on his forehead and cheek, “we’ll see Scott later,”

“Fine,” Stiles conceded and the two left the scene.

* * *

“Does this happen often?” Oliver asked from the cell. His guard was Derek Hale this time.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked with a sigh. He checked his watch with a cracked glass face, checking until his ‘shift’ was over and he could go home to see Talia and Rachael.

“The people here,” Oliver shrugged, “they’re not your people,”

“No, they’re not,” Derek said.

“They’re terrorising your people,” Oliver watched Derek’s face for any emotion or reaction, “why was I brought here if your people can’t even defend themselves right now?”

“It’s a long story,” Derek shrugged, “we’re working on it,”

The door to the holding cell block opened and Noah stepped through with keys in his hand. Derek stood almost as if Noah was a general and Derek a subordinate, and Olivia got the cue to back up into the far wall of the cell. Noah nodded to Derek who relaxed. Noah approached the cell door and jingled the keys, trying to find the right one to open the cell.

“He’s being released,” Noah said, “we’ll find somewhere for him to stay,”

“Even while these people are here taking everything you have?” Oliver frowned.

“I’m sorry it can’t be better,” Noah admitted, finding the right key and opening the cell door, “Evans is waiting outside, he’ll escort you,” Noah directed.

“Thank you,” Oliver smiled gratefully, “but if there’s too much trouble, I’m out of here,”

“Understandable,” Noah nodded, “go on,” Once Oliver was safely out of the room, Noah turned to Derek and closed the door, “Stiles believes he’s a spy,”

“What?” Derek furrowed his brows, “and we’re letting him go?”

“We’re going to work him for information, mislead him on what he’s here for,” Noah explained, “we’re letting him go so we can watch him closely without letting on that we know,”

“How do we know?” Derek crossed his arms, “he seems like a decent guy,”

“I thought you of all people would have better instincts,” Noah sighed, “Stiles said they found him losing against a hoard of zombies, only six, but he said he’d come from the Oregon border,”

“That’s a while to walk without encountering more zombies,” Derek frowned.

“It is, so we’re suspicious. If it turns out he’s not a spy, then he’ll be alright, but we’re keeping a close eye on him,” Noah explained.

“Okay, I’ll make sure Rachael knows not to tell him anything significant,” Derek said.

“Thank you,”

* * *

Lydia stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the home she shared with Stiles. Her hair was far too long and matted, and her skin was marked with freckles and sun damage that she couldn’t control. It was a long way from the perfect, made up princess she used to be. What makeup she had salvaged had long since gone bad. Her foundation had cracked and dried out, her lipstick too old to bother using, any concealer was far too thin to do anything. Her clothes had moved away from skirts, dresses and high heels and turned to anything she could find that would keep her cool while making it easier to run from zombies when needed.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked.

Lydia looked past her own reflection to Stiles who had moved to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. Lydia sighed and shook her head. Some days she missed who they used to be. While it wasn’t close to being a simple existence, it was easier. All of their friends that were still alive showed signs of the apocalypse taking a toll. Stiles was marked by scars and trauma that none of the others really understood, Scott was tired and seemed to have given up, his once unmovable moral code starting to crack at the seams. They all showed the signs of growing up in a world where violence and death were the only constants.

“Some days I miss who we were,” Lydia said.

“Me too,” Stiles moved to stand by her side, “It’s been a long time since we were those people,”

“I know,” Lydia nodded and turned to face Stiles, “do you ever get sick of it? The violence, the killing?” Stiles was silent for a moment and Lydia saw the familiar glint in his eye, one of chaos and pain. His expression turned guilty almost as soon as the glint appeared.

“I…sometimes,” Stiles nodded with a sigh, averting his gaze from Lydia’s.

“Please…please don’t lie to me,” Lydia cupped his cheek. He looked at her, his eyes soft and full of unspoken emotion.

“I’m trying,” Stiles admitted, “I’m trying to be better, I’m trying to be normal and kind and _good_ , but sometimes—“

“Sometimes you just want to revel in the violence,” Lydia said knowingly, “I think we all have moments like that,”

“It’s different for me,” Stiles told her, “ever since—ever since the nogitsune, things haven’t been the same. _I_ haven’t been the same. While I was out there, walking amongst the dead, I could let go and take control, fashion myself into a person capable of surviving out there instead of the teenager scared of taking up a gun but unafraid to die by one,” Stiles explained, “I was able to let myself feel everything I wanted to feel for so long but was afraid to,”

“It’s like the world finally caught up with you,” Lydia nodded, understanding. Stiles gave her a look of guilt.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knocking at their front door. Stiles and Lydia broke away from their conversation and ran downstairs, Stiles pulling on a shirt in the process. Lydia threw open the door to see Scott, his wounds finally fully healed but his expression one of desperation.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, rounding the corner to see the front door.

“Scott?” Lydia prompted when Scott didn’t speak.

“They’re gone,” Scott said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “the Legion, they just up and left,”  
“That’s good right?” Lydia asked. Stiles’ expression turned sour.

“That depends. Were they running from something, or saving themselves from what’s coming next,” Stiles said and Scott looked to him.

“I heard them talking, it sounded like they were planning something,” Scott said.

“Then we need to be prepared,” Stiles frowned, “an attack is coming,” The three shared a concerned glance at one another, Scott’s one of fear for the safety of Beacon Hills.

“Hoard!” Came a yell from the walls. A loud siren from a megaphone sounded over the walled off town and lights began to turn on inside houses, the darkness of the night suddenly illuminated, “hoard!” The yell was repeated. People began coming outside their homes, weapons at the ready.

Scott, Stiles and Lydia ran to the wall. They climbed up the ladder to meet Damien at his post. He had the megaphone in his hand and his eyes were wide with fear. Scott, Stiles and Lydia stood atop the wall, looking out over the long stretch of forrest lined road the led out of Beacon Hills. There, in the distance, was a hoard of hundreds, maybe even thousands, heading straight for Beacon Hills.

“We need to evacuate,” Scott muttered.


End file.
